<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Colour by Amberspark</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23842546">Colour</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amberspark/pseuds/Amberspark'>Amberspark</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon-Typical Violence, Elven!Reader, Elves, F/M, Flashbacks, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Healers, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Loss, Past Geralt x reader, Reader-Insert</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 19:41:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,511</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23842546</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amberspark/pseuds/Amberspark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Geralt isn't very fond of the memories regarding his teaching. But the kind elven woman would always have a special place in his heart. Meeting her along their journy to Oxenfurt, Geralt can't help but notice how she also seems to get along well with that annoying bard.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia &amp; Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia &amp; Reader, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Reader, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Jaskier | Dandelion/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Colour</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><br/>
<em>His small naked feet shuffled along the cold stone floor. It was past the devil's hour, all the other children were fast asleep but he snuck out into the dark hallway. He was plagued by pain once more, it kept stealing his much-needed sleep so he made his way to the lit room on the far end of the hall. soft candlelight peeked out from under the heavy wooden door, he contemplated for a second. Was it worth to disturb her? But the dull pulsing behind his right eye wouldn’t grand him any rest without her help. So he wrapped his fingers into a fist and knocked quietly.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Yes?” Her answer was muffled by the door. </em>
  <em>The boy kept silent, waiting for her okay to enter.</em>
</p><p><br/>
<em>“Come in” She called, there was a splashy sound, she must be painting again. </em><br/>
<em>He reached up to the iron door handle, quietly opening it only far enough so that you could sneak in. His brown curls were the only thing she could see of him from her seat at the desk. Hear was pulled up with a clip, elven ears on full display. She normally kept it down when working during the day or healing then after training, he noticed.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Geralt, why are you awake at this hour?” She cleaned out her paintbrush, drying her hands before walking over to him. She wasn’t very tall, but since he was still small she had to crouch to be on eye level with the boy. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I… I have a headache.” He answered shyly. His gaze on the floor, feet shuffling on the ground. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>She let out a small huff, putting her thumb on his chin to make him lookup. “Alright, sit, I’ll be with you in a moment.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>She nodded over to the bed in the far corner of the room, moving back to the desk to take off her apron. It was covered in colorful blotches, some fingerprints. Some marks were fresh, others already faded out or bleached away. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>He sat down on the mattress. It was still covered up by the light gray throw over the blanket, a big fur was laying on top of it. His fingers curled into the soft fur, thinking about what a fierce beast it must have been before it got killed, ending up in a healer's room. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>She returned to his side, her light blue skirt now free and spared of any marks. She pulled her stool up to the bed and leaned forward, her right hand gently reached out to him, brushing through his brown curls. They would be gone soon, replaced by straight white strands. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Where does it hurt exactly?” She kept her hand on his small shoulder, her thumb gently moving along it. She wasn’t that old. Maybe 14 or 16? At least that is what she looked like. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Here.” He placed his fingers on the skin above his right eyebrow. “ Like a pulsing. It gets worse when I move.” He answered quietly. He had become much quieter since he began his training in Kaer Morhen, keeping to himself. His bubbly nature died along with some of the few friends he made there. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Right, I’ll give you a small dose of pain relief.” She moved to her cabinet, getting a small vail and a few herbs. Mixing them, she whispered a small chant then pouring the liquid in a small glass.</em>
</p><p><br/>
<em>“Take this. I know it doesn't taste good but you will soon feel better.” She handed him the glass, once more brushing her fingers through his hair. He swallowed the bitter liquid, frowning, then coughing a little. She grabbed the water bottle sitting on her nightstand, pouring some water into the glass to help him wash it down. He accepted it quickly, downing the clear liquid. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“It will take some time to work. You can rest here, okay?” She stood up, handing him a blanket before moving back towards the desk. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Geralt lay down on the soft fur, pulling the blanket up to his chin. It smelled like her he noticed. Like rain, petrichor, she explained once. </em>
</p><p><br/>
<em>He closed his eyes, relaxing on the bed. The pain had started to die out, only a small sting remaining. He could hear her brush moving over the canvas, the splashing of the water when she cleared out the brush to choose another colour. </em><br/>
<em>Geralt sat up, the painful training already granted him better sight, even in the faint candlelight he was able to see what she was working on. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>A lavender field, soft pastels covering a hill, a beige hut with a red roof in the background. Small pink flowers in the foreground, growing and blooming along with yellow and orange Hyacinthus. She was adding a few bushed to the sides, some light blue clouds in the sky. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Is it a real place?” He asked, making her stop. She turned her head, giving him a small smile. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I don’t know… want to take a closer look?” she chuckled. He got up from the bed, walking over to her. She moved away from the table, noticing that he was too small to see the painting, she patted her thighs. He nodded, allowing her to pick him up and sit down on her leg. </em><br/>
<em>“Ha, you are getting stronger, huh?” She laughed, having her difficulty to pick him up. He had been here for a good year, learning and training every day. The mutations had not manifested yet, at least not completely.</em>
</p><p><br/>
<em>She moved closer to the desk, going back to her work while the boy watched her slow brush strokes. They stayed like this for a while but then he felt the need to ask her a question that had been bothering for some time now.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Why are you here? “ he kept his gaze on the canvas in front of him.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I help out. Patch you up, assist Vesemir, take care of the sheep…” She kept painting, trying to ignore the ache in her chest.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“But you are no witcher…. Why don’t you live somewhere else?” he pressed on. </em><br/>
<em>She sighed, setting down her paintbrush. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Well, there are many people that don’t like me. They don’t want me in their villages, so I stay here and do my work.” She kept still, lost in thought. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>It made the boy turn around to face her. He could see her eyes water up, the light sheer reflecting the soft candlelight. He looked at her with confusion.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“But you are nice. Why would people not want you around? You help us all the time!” He exclaimed. She was like a sister, the motherly figure they all lacked due to their circumstances. Many children would come to her after training, having their wounds healed, bodies mended after a particularly harsh session. Her room was a refuge, a safe haven in this dark and cold place.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“They simply don’t like what I am. Humans understand things that are different and that makes them angry and scared. So they resolve to fight anything that isn’t them.”</em><br/>
<em>She tried to hide her tears, moving to brush a tear away. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“That sounds stupid.” Geralt mumbled. It made her laugh, smiling at the young boy.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“It is. But you will understand when you are older.”  </em>
</p><p> </p><p><br/>
He took a deep breath. The smell of sweat and old wood filling his nostrils. Outside he heard chickens, farmers yelling, wagons being pulled along the stone road. Geralt moved his hands. The itchy fabric covering the bed, no silky furs, he must be in an inn. </p><p><br/>
<em>A dream, again…</em>
</p><p>He groaned, moving to sit up, the muscles in his back were still tense, his left shoulder hurt in particular. He looked at it, a long ugly cut adorned it.<br/>
The griffin, he remembered, he slew it yesterday before retreating to his room. Jaskier had bothered him last night, he wouldn’t stop singing that stupid song about their encounter with the elves, so Geralt had decided to go to bed earlier than usual. He was about to lay back down, sink back into the warmth and comfort of his dream but a swift knock at the door stopped him.</p><p><br/>
Before he could answer the bard had opened the door, fully dressed, annoyingly ready.</p><p>“I see, you finally decided to get up.” The brunette grinned at him “ Never expected you to be the type to enjoy sleeping in.”</p><p>Jaskier entered, picking up Geralt's clothes and throwing them on the bed.<br/>
“Geralt, you promised me that we would go and spent some coin in Oxenfurt. Why do we make so much money when we don't get to spent it. Let’s go!” the bard insisted. </p><p><br/>
“Fuck off.” Geralt said, catching the boot Jaskier was throwing at him. </p><p>“Oh, so grumpy in the morning already. Did you have a bad dream?” Jaskier asked, grabbing their bags.</p><p>Geralt huffed. “ Quite the opposite.” He put on his shirt, stretching arms. “ Now leave. I’ll get ready so you stop being such a pain.”</p><p> The sweet smell of petrichor wouldn't leave his mind for the rest of the day. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Yay! I had an insperation to write about baby Geralt during episode 8 and finally came up with a good story to with it.<br/>Please tell me what you think of it. There is more to come if you guys want this to continue ;)</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>